


Pressure Rising

by darter_blue



Series: Pressure [4]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anal Sex, Bottom Bucky Barnes, Captain America Steve Rogers/Modern Bucky Barnes, Fluff and Smut, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Shrunkyclunks, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-10
Updated: 2020-05-10
Packaged: 2021-03-02 18:33:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24101395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darter_blue/pseuds/darter_blue
Summary: Waking up in a farmhouse, on an apple orchard, in the arms of a man who could bench press a minivan, with eyelashes like a disney princess and shoulders like a greek god is Bucky's fantasy turned reality.Except this is sort of a kidnapping.And his life might be falling apart in the real world.And Bucky might not give a shit, because Steve Rogers is like a drug, and Bucky just can't get enough.Also, it turns out, maybe Bucky is a drug for Steve too...For my Bucky Barnes Bingo square: C3/ (wildcard square)
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Series: Pressure [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1696774
Comments: 78
Kudos: 391
Collections: Bucky Barnes Bingo 2020





	Pressure Rising

**Author's Note:**

> They're back! 
> 
> If you're new to this, try going back to the beginning, it will make more sense (I hope) and get you up to speed.
> 
> If you've been with me from the start and patiently waiting for more, wait no longer!
> 
> Enjoy ❤️❤️

If anyone had told Bucky a week ago, he'd be waking up in a farmhouse, on an apple orchard, in the arms of a man who could bench press a minivan, he would have told them to fuck off.

Well, actually, it's more likely he would have very politely laughed and said, 'I wish,' and carried on with his day.

Bucky has now learned the prudence of being careful what you wish for. The hard way.

Still, he's not sure he would change anything, as stressful and dramatic as the last three days have been, even if he could. Because waking up like this is not so bad (not so bad, _please_ , he’s living the dream). Steve is like a mass of thermal energy in the bed next to him, curled up beside him, hand resting on Bucky's thigh, sound asleep.

Bucky shifts little by little to turn himself around and look down at Steve Rogers as a snuffling, fluffy, ruffled sleeping beauty. His eyelashes are fanning out across his lightly freckled cheeks and Bucky is hit by the force of how stunning Steve is, creamy skin and high cheekbones and pretty pink lips. He wants to brush the hair from Steve’s forehead, sweep it back with all too real affection, but perhaps that would be taking a liberty he hasn’t earned yet. They still haven’t defined what the fuck they are doing with each other. 

He takes his hand back and tucks it away. 

It must already be late afternoon, the shutters are spilling patterned strips of light across the bed, and if his grumbling tummy is anything to go by, hunger is getting the better of him right now. He missed lunch. And he would really like to sneak downstairs, find Clint and be personable, maybe sweet talk him out of some of that pizza he was hearing about and feel like a real boy for just five minutes. If that's possible. 

He slides himself out from under Steve's palm and off the bed. They had fallen asleep on top of the bedspread, having had no intention of sleeping at all. It was meant to be a cuddle, to set Bucky's brain back down at the right level and settle, which makes it easier to extricate himself, no blankets to untangle, no mess to tidy, just a gently snoring giant to slip out from underneath. 

Bucky is aware that he never got a proper chance to wash up, is wearing Steve clothes and smells like sex.

He contemplates changing for about ten seconds, and then abandons the idea. If he's stuck here for the next two weeks, with a veritable sex god, who seems hell bent on fucking the life out of a willing Bucky, then Steve's friends are bound to find out how gone he is at some point. 

May as well be now. 

When he gets downstairs, though, the place is empty.

Bucky spends a few minutes looking through rooms, quietly calling out names. He heads outside at the distant sound of some machine or another running and finds Sam and Nat in the large shed to the left of the house, arguing over the single seat of the ride-on lawnmower.

'This is blatant favouritism,' Sam is saying, rather loudly, 'Every time we come here you get to ride the mower, every time!'

'I don't know if you know this, Sam, but this lawnmower has been in Clint's family for generations,' Nat says, arms crossed and voice level, 'Only family get to use it.'

'Okay,' Sam fires up, 'A. That is bullshit, this mower is like two years old, and B. that makes no sense, you're not even family.'

'Clint is my family,' Nat says quietly, and while Bucky watches, something vaguely terrifying passes over her face. Sam appears, however, supremely unconcerned. 

'Clint is your family in the same way I am your family. No, don't be making that face, don't be trying your Russian Assassin nonsense on me. I know you.' 

Just as Bucky is sure Sam is about to lose his life, Nat's facade breaks, a little, and she cracks a smile. 

'Fine, take the damn mower,' she says, stepping back from the machine, 'but if you break it, you're buying him a new one. It's not a toy.'

Sam is, by all accounts, no longer listening. He whoops, jumps into the driver’s seat and takes off, no care for safe speed or obstacles, calling out a happy, 'Howdy Partner,' to Bucky, tipping his hat as he passes him by. Bucky's not sure where he got the stetson from, only knows that it looks unfairly good on him.

'Hello Bucky,' Nat says from right beside him, having crept up on him like a ninja. 'Nice nap?'

And that smile is full of knowledge, Nat is absolutely aware of what Steve and Bucky were up to not two hours ago. 

He decides it's sometimes best to just bite the bullet.

'Sorry about before, if we were, well. I hope it didn't make you guys uncomfortable.'

‘Don’t worry, Steve asked us to give you guys some time, basically his version of a sock on the doorknob.’

‘Ah,’ Bucky is as relieved as he is still embarrassed (nope, on closer inspection, mostly relieved).

'Hey, whatever's responsible for putting that look on Steve's face for the past three days, just keep it up.' Nat says with a sweet smile that softens her, 'it's nice to see him like this.'

And Bucky isn't quite sure how to respond to that except to blush and duck his head. 'I'll uh, I'll do my best.'

'You do that,' she says, tucking her elbow into the crook of his arm and leading him back to the house. 'Let's get you some lunch.'

As they walk, they pass Sam, who, and Bucky's no expert, appears to be attempting to drive donuts into a cleared section of field with the lawnmower. Nat gives him dangerous side eye but remains otherwise unaffected.

By the time they get back to the house, Steve is coming down the stairs in his jeans and black, long sleeved t-shirt, looking rumpled and gorgeous.

'You didn't wake me.' Steve is looking at Bucky like he's still half asleep and missing time, 'Everything okay?'

'Yeah, you looked so peaceful, I didn't want to disturb you,' Bucky says, keeping his tone light, 'thought I'd see if I could find some of that pizza from lunch.'

'Oh, well...' Steve, normally so composed and confident, is searching for the right words and not finding them, and it's giving Bucky all kinds of feelings. 'that's... fine. good. Pizza?'

Nat, who is failing at keeping her laughter to herself, gestures to the kitchen with a sweep of her red bob, 'Fridge.'

‘Okay so the next important question becomes, do you reheat? Or do you eat it cold?’ Bucky says, not explicitly to Steve, but he certainly isn’t asking Nat.

‘Is this a loaded question?’

‘In what way?’

‘Does anything hinge on my answer to this question? Is it a test of some kind?’

‘No Steve, the fate of our relationship does not rest on whether or not you like cold pizza.’

Bucky realises he just used the word relationship at the same time he catches Steve's reaction to its use. And it's not the cringe or the panic he’s expecting, it’s a smile contained entirely to Steve’s eyes.

Huh.

'Ah,' he coughs, 'So, to heat or not to heat?'

'We heat it, Bucky.'

Bucky raises an eyebrow, but Steve's tone is teasing and he would prefer to heat it anyway, he's not about to argue. Even if it might be fun to push back. 

'Before you boys get carried away,' Nat says, seated at a stool along the island bench, 'I may need to borrow Bucky for a bit.'

Sounds a little ominous.

Oh god, it's not going to be a talking to about future sexcapades is it? Steve can get that talking to, thank you, he's the one who decided to open the fucking door… and they were so quiet right? Nat had that smug knowing look going, but that doesn't mean she actually heard or saw anything, right? Because Steve had told them to be scarce… Christ, how much forward planning had gone into that?

When did _this_ become the sort of thing Bucky had to worry about?

'Relax,’ Nat says, like she can read his mind, ‘it's about your phone. We have equipment here and in the van that will hide its signal, which also means you won't be able to use it at all.'

'Oh.' Oh. He hadn't even checked his phone since the airport. 'Is there, I mean... am I supposed to be contacting anyone, or am I disappearing. What's the plan again?' Bucky may not have been paying enough attention last time. He may have been slightly preoccupied with finding out how Steve was really a hundred year old super soldier on the run from Nazi's and that the billionaire, playboy, tech genius who just made a bid to invest in Bucky's research is possibly really an evil mastermind.

Today has been a _lot._

'We might need you to make some calls, set some people at ease. It's better if it doesn't seem like you just dropped off the face of the earth.'

'Okay yeah, I guess that would be a good idea.'

'Can you make a list of people who might be expecting to hear from you in the next two weeks?' Nat asked, and Steve's ears were practically pricking up at the question, 'I'd like to go over it, do some background checks and figure out who would be safe for you to check in with.'

'Umm... yeah,' Bucky could make a list. It would not be a long list... 'Do you have something for me to make it on?'

'Yeah, let me get you the tablet, hang on.'

Nat bustled out of the room and left just Steve and Bucky. It wasn't awkward, as much as it felt like the air between them was heavy with expectation.

Steve stepped up to close in on where Bucky was standing, about a foot from the bench and for some reason hesitating to either sit down or step around it to go into the kitchen.

'So...'

'So,' Bucky looked up, waiting for Steve to continue.

'Sorry I fell asleep on you,' he says, and it's cute, how a veritable beefcake can look so sheepish.

'It's okay, I fell asleep too. It's been a big day for me'

'I guess I'm really sorry about that too.'

Bucky definitely deserves the apology. He just isn't sure he really needs to hear it anymore. Maybe he'll put a moratorium on apologies about stealing him from his life and turning it completely upside down, it's not like any amount of I'm sorry's are going to make it right again...

And it's not like Steve could have known that Bucky and Tony would have any connection when they started this whole thing. It was just meant to be fun. Stress relief. A hot guy who seemed totally into him and wanted to help make him feel better. Steve probably didn't have to be sorry about that.

'I know you are,' Bucky said instead, 'Let's say we just assume I accept your apology, and spend the next two weeks pretending this is a holiday.'

'Do you mean assume, because actually you don't?' Steve says, and it might be Bucky's imagination, but Steve looks nervous.

'I do, mostly, I just don't want it taking up space in my brain right now, to have to decide that indefinitely.' Bucky is still looking up at Steve, Steve who hasn't quite moved all the way in to within touching distance of Bucky.

'Okay,' Steve says, taking a tentative step closer, 'That seems reasonable.'

'I'm glad you think so,'

'And I'll just have to find ways to keep your brain otherwise occupied.' Another step.

'Oh it's my brain you want to occupy now?' Bucky isn't consciously moving backwards, but the island bench seems to be creeping up on him from behind.

'I'm sure I can find a way to get you thinking about only what I want you thinking about.' And at this point, Steve is so close he is crowding Bucky into the bench. So much so that it's hitting the small of his back and he's arching into it. Which may just be his body's subtle way of getting his pelvis up against Steve's crotch. And the man is honestly insatiable, because Bucky can feel how interested he is through his jeans.

'We're here for pizza, remember?' Bucky says, swallowing nervously and fighting the urge to reach up and run his nose along Steve's impossible jawline.

'I seem to remember owing you something.' Steve says with _that look_ , 'I'm wondering if this countertop qualifies as a table?'

'Steve,' Bucky says, breathing in the lingering sweat and sex on Steve's skin and trying to ignore it, 'As much as I love the idea of that,' because he does, Steve can probably _feel_ how much he does, 'This is not my house, we are not alone, I'm hungry. This is not the right time.'

Steve leans back just enough to get a good read on Bucky's face, and whatever he finds there is enough to have him take a small step away, no longer pinning Bucky to the bench with his body.

'Not the right time,' Steve says, which may or may not be a question.

Bucky nods a little, barely perceptible tilt of the head.

'But not a hard no.' And the smile on him, _Jesus_. Did he always know how to use that smile, or was that one of his superpowers? 'Maybe we should come up with a list of our own, once you're finished with your list for Nat.'

Which means what? A list of yes and no, what Bucky would be comfortable with?

What would he be comfortable with?

Actually this has potential. Because Steve is basically handing him all the power with a list like that, which is as scary as it is attractive.

But Bucky was right before, now is _not_ the time, seeing as Nat is coming back into the room on her sneaky ninja feet and it sounds like Clint has arrived back, if that's his car Bucky can hear driving up to the house.

Bucky thinks about cold water, and Jacob deGrom's last season's pitching stats, and that one time he caught his ex cleaning his ears with the lid from Bucky's Bic ballpoint pen (he will never use a Bic again). It helps, a little, to get him to a fit state for receiving company. 

'What, you guys still deciding on whether or not to heat up your pizza?' Nat says, gliding over to Bucky with a very small, glass smart device for him to presumably put down his contacts on. If he can figure out how to turn it on...

'Uh, yeah. That's what we were doing.'

Nat takes the device back, presses something along the edge that pops out a stylus, and hands it back. 'At least three, maybe five names please.'

The glass lights up and apps appear lit with blue light, it's very, very cool. Bucky gets a bit lost just swiping through and turning the tablet over in his hands, it's the same picture front and back, but quickly opens the notes function at the look he's getting from Nat.

Let's see; Becka would be the first name on his list. His baby sister (she's not a baby, she's thirty now), who lives in Queens and busts his chops daily. His boss, who's gonna want to hear from Bucky's own mouth why he's not at work (that will be tricky to navigate), Joe, who runs his gym and will be wondering why he isn't there for him routine morning lifts… 

'What's this? Afternoon Pizza?' Clint calls as he barrels into the house with about three hundred bags of groceries in each hand.

'Oh my god, let me help you,' Bucky says, handing the tablet back to Nat and jogging over to Clint to take one hands worth of baggage with his prosthetic. It's heavy, the prosthetic is pretty accurate at judging weight (especially from the pull on his shoulder), and it's a testament to how strong Clint must be that he was holding twice this and barely breaking a sweat.

'Oh, wow!' Clint says, as Bucky lifts the bags onto the counter top, 'How much can you lift with that arm?'

And it's the first time anyone of the 'team' has expressly mentioned his prosthetic.

Which, Bucky doesn't mind. He knows sometimes people don't know whether it's appropriate to mention, and sometimes people legitimately don't notice. And sometimes people just... Don't want to. He knows Steve has a bit of a thing for it, which, surprise surprise, they haven’t said a word to each other about. Maybe he should put something about it on the list...

Bucky knows the prosthetic is a part of him, not just his body (he's had it for so long, in different iterations, it's an extension of him now) it's also his brainchild. He's been working on this tech so long, it's his baby. 

So yeah, it can be squicky if people want to touch it, or watch it work, if those people aren't people that Bucky is comfortable with. But friends? Family? He's okay with that.

'Um, at the moment, this version can lift sixty pounds. It's limited by the strength of my chest and shoulders, but it has some good joint work.'

'I'm not gonna lie man, it's pretty fucking cool,' Clint says, putting his own bags down on the counter and crossing his arms over his chest. 'And you like, designed it? Right?'

'Well, I've been working off and on on this and other prosthetic bioengineering technological functionality...' Bucky is just about to head into his spiel, but he's not at a conference right now, these aren't people who've flown in specifically to hear about his research, 'sorry, you don't want to hear me harp on about it.'

'Are you kidding? You're like a real life bionic man, man. That shit is awesome!'

'Oh, thank you. Well I mean, yeah, this is still a prototype. I guess I was hoping I could find some funding to get actual publicly available pieces like this off the ground in the next few years. That funding from Stark Tech would have been amazing...'

Steve is looking deeply uncomfortable about this line of questioning, though Bucky is aware that if Stark turns out to be the bad guy, none of that money would have made it to Bucky anyway - and potentially any that did would have just caused him no end of grief in the long run. 

‘But hey, the next tech billionaire is probably right around the corner.’ He landed on, maybe just to put Steve out of his misery.

‘Or Tony has nothing to do with any of this and it will all work out just fine,’ Steve added, some mixture of guilt and hope and self doubt in his expression. For a so-called spy, he really had no poker face. Though it must be hard, if Bucky is understanding the situation correctly, to have to investigate the first and only friend you had in the world, post waking from the dead. 

‘Yes we can all dream,’ Nat says, decisively cutting off the conversation and giving Steve a flat stare, ‘How about for now we get Bionic-boy some lunch, and Mister America over here can take him on a proper tour of the grounds.’

‘I can show you around, Bucky,’ Clint says, not escaping Bucky’s attention that he hasn’t called him James again since the slip up on their introduction. 

‘Not necessary, Clint, I’ve got it,’ Steve says, using the kind of command voice that has Bucky’s pants situation rearing its head again (yep, literally).

Clint gives Steve his own kicked puppy look and mumbles something about ‘hogging the new guy,’ as he gets to packing the groceries away. 

Meanwhile hot pizza has somehow appeared in front of Bucky, and he is pushed to ‘eat, eat’ by the others, Steve maneuvers him onto a stool and then sits beside him to eat his own reheated pizza. The base has gone a little soggy but it's still obviously homemade and the toppings are generous, pepperoni and olives and fresh basil. It’s pretty fucking amazing. 

Bucky is very aware of Steve’s eyes on him the entire time they eat, more specifically, Steve’s eyes on Bucky’s mouth. And the man is honestly killing him with the way his pupils dilate as Bucky (totally unintentionally) runs his tongue over his bottom lip to make sure he’s caught any excess sauce. 

Nat takes one look at them and grabs Clint mid way through getting canned goods into the walk in pantry. ‘Oh Clint, did I mention I let Sam out on the mower?’

‘You did what? NO, no, no,’ Clint abandons his cans and heads for the front door, Nat close on his heels, ‘That man is a menace, he is not allowed near Bessy,’ and Nat gives Bucky a wink on her way past that leaves Bucky nearly choking on his mouthful.

He will not survive these two weeks.

And somehow in the five seconds since he turned away to watch them leave, Steve is now sitting almost on top of him. 

‘Wanna get out of here?’ he says, his voice all deep and smooth like Bucky likes, sending a shiver through him.

‘And go where?’ Bucky asks, back up to the bedroom? He’s not sure, even as smitten as he is, that he wants to spend any more time up there today. 

‘Come on, let's go for a walk.’ And Steve is essentially scooping him up off the stool and dragging him towards the front door.

‘My pizza!’ Bucky looks back at his last piece that has fallen half eaten onto the plate.

‘Hang on,’ Steve says, jogging back for the pizza and holding it out to Bucky with a smile as he sidles back to him, ‘Okay let's go.’

Bucky scoffs but can’t help smiling like an idiot at Steve’s offering, looking so proud of himself. He shakes his head but takes Steve’s hand happily as he pulls him through the front door and towards the apple orchard, eating the last few bites carefully while they walk.

‘Let me take you through the orchards before the sun goes down,’ Steve says, pulling Bucky along and threading their fingers together. Bucky would say yes if he could manage to form words, but he's too stuck on Steve's hair where the sun is hitting it, lighting it up, on the way Steve seems to need to be touching him. He just nods his head instead and puts himself in Steve’s hands for the afternoon.

The orchard is like a fairy tale. The trees are blossoming, though not with fruit yet, instead covered in thousands of delicate little flowers, row upon row of just faintly pink, prolifically petalled branches arching into each other, creating magical alleyways for Steve and Bucky to travel through. The others - and their mower - are over on the opposite side of the house, and so the peace within the trees is completely undisturbed. The breeze is close to warm in the afternoon sun and the sweet scent of the blossoms clings to the air, permeating their skin.

They are content to amble between the trees for a while, Bucky softly brushing his fingers across the flowers he can reach, the bark of the branches, sliding his bare feet through the grass that grows between each ordered row of the orchard. Steve swings his held hand up and over Bucky's body as he slides behind him, wrapping him up in his arms and nuzzling into the nape of his neck.

‘You smell like me,’ he says, his breath tickling the back of Bucky's ear.

‘Steve,’ Bucky says, leaning back into the hold of his arms, ‘You’re terrible,’ and there is absolutely zero heat in his words, they are just lazy and teasing and Bucky doesn’t mind at all.

‘Not my fault,’ Steve says softly, ‘Your fault.’

And Bucky is almost distracted enough not to notice that they have ambled all the way up to the end of one section of the orchard and are closing in on another building, this one a mixture of white timber and exposed brick, with a slanted, solar panelled steel roof and double sliding doors.

‘What’s this?’ Bucky asks, his attention wrenched from Steve by this vintage Barn just sitting between the orchards. It’s rustic and idyllic and Bucky wants to live in it, it's so inviting.

‘This is the picking shed,’ Steve says happily, stepping out from behind Bucky to pull him over to the doors, ‘Clint and Kate barrel their cider in here, store a bunch of the apples, sometimes pickle the other produce, stuff like that.’

'Kate?'

'Clint's partner, they run the orchard together, used to work together for, well, a bunch of alphabet agencies I think.'

'And now they make cider?' Bucky asks, curious to see inside. Cider, pickled produce - it sounds like hipster heaven.

Bucky looks at Steve and Steve just laughs at him, unlatching the black iron handle to slide the doors open.

‘Come on, he won’t mind.’

Bucky doesn’t need any convincing. He steps up to the entrance and looks inside. Sun from the open shuttered windows on either side of the doors is streaming in and lighting up the barrels along the opposite wall, lined up on their sides and stacked on top of each other on the concrete floor. There’s a sink, chest freezers and a refrigerator behind an island bench along the adjacent wall, the counter top partially covered in jars and baskets, some full of brightly coloured vegetables, others empty. There's a long wooden table that runs along the other wall, with bench seats. A few folded table cloths sit atop the table and there are aprons and dish towels hanging on hooks nailed into the wall. 

The whole place smells like apples and cider and cinnamon, Bucky was right, he is in heaven. And Steve is watching him, small smile on his lips, a light in his eyes.

‘It’s beautiful in here,’ he says and Steve is shaking his head,

‘You’re beautiful.’

Bucky can feel the blush in his cheeks, thinks Steve must be crazy, his hair is a mess at the moment, tangled waves hanging down to his shoulders, he’s sloppily wearing Steve’s too big sweats and wide necked henley. He probably has pizza sauce on his face. It should be the most ridiculous thing. But somehow, when Steve says it, Bucky believes it. 

‘Come here,’ Steve says, and Bucky is walking over to him before it's even a conscious thought. 

When he’s close enough, Steve tugs him in by the neck of his shirt and then pushes him up against the lip of the table. Bucky barely thinks about it, just leans back into it, lifts his heels and perches his butt on it. 

‘Oh, now I see why you brought me here,’ Bucky says, sitting his hands on Steve’s narrow hips, but Steve doesn’t rise to the bait. There’s a purpose in his movements, hunger in his eyes, and Bucky knows he’s in trouble.

‘So fucking beautiful,’ Steve breathes, leaning over him and pressing him onto the table, reaching for him with his lips, catching Bucky’s bottom lip and pulling on it, opening his mouth with the soft touch of his tongue. Bucky kisses back with the same gentle heat, it's different, it's sweeter than Steve has been before and Bucky is already drunk on it.

They kiss like that for a while, Bucky bringing Steve closer with his hands and wrapping his legs around him too.

  
  


He slips his hands up under the fabric of Steve’s shirt, wants his hands on the warm, soft skin of Steve’s back, and Steve arches into it before gripping the hem and pulling it over his head, exposing all that strength, that tightly coiled power in his chest and stomach, arms and shoulders, and god, those ridiculous shoulders. Bucky has to close his eyes to it all, it’s too much.

When he's taken a deep breath he opens his eyes again to find the blue ring of Steve’s eyes fixed on him. Bucky pulls him back in by the waist of his jeans and Steve raises his eyebrow, like he’ll allow it, but it’s off-book. 

‘We didn’t get to make our list yet,’ Bucky says, wondering how far Steve wants to take this right now, pretty sure he already knows.

‘Is that something you want, before we keep going Buck?’ Steve says, grasping at Bucky’s hands and holding them on the table, either side of Bucky's body, threading their fingers together again.

‘I want you to take care of me,' Bucky admits, because he's fast becoming addicted to giving himself over, just not sure to what extent, 'I'm just not sure I want to have no control.’

‘You have all the control, Bucky, you say go we go, you say stop we stop.’

‘Just like that?’

‘Always. I only want to make you feel good. I don’t ever want to do anything that makes you feel otherwise.’

And he looks so genuine Bucky can only believe him.

‘You do, you make me feel better than I’ve ever felt before,’ Bucky says, because nobody has ever taken him to pieces like Steve has, seen right into the corners of him and used that knowledge to take him apart.

‘Fuck, Bucky,’ Steve says, pushing him back down onto the table with his body, pulling his hands up to either side of Bucky’s head, ‘Been so hard for you all day, want to hold you down, want to be inside you.’

‘Yeah, yes,’ Bucky is nodding, because the idea of Steve inside him, over him, around him, everywhere, that’s all that Bucky wants right now. ‘Please, Steve.’

And Steve is nodding too, a little erratic, kissing up the line of Bucky’s throat. He takes his hands off Bucky’s hands to help him peel the henley up over his head and Bucky leans back on his elbows, watching Steve kiss his way down Bucky’s torso to his waist, biting gently into the soft flesh of Bucky’s stomach. Most of his strength is in his chest and shoulders by necessity, his stomach is not as muscular, and Steve seems to have lost himself in the feel of it under his tongue, under his fingers. 

Bucky rocks up into Steve as he bites into the particularly sensitive skin over his hip and gets an ‘Uh-uh,’ from Steve, who holds Bucky’s hips down with one hand and strips his sweats off with the other, ‘Keep still for me.’

Bucky can only nod in reply.

Steve pulls a small tube of lube and a condom from his back pocket and smiles down at Bucky’s questioning expression, ‘I’ve had them in my pocket since last night.’

‘Big plans got- ah,’ Bucky gasps as Steve bites down on his nipple, ‘Fuck.’

‘Interrupted? They did yes, I had some very big plans, Bucky,’ Steve says, popping the cap on his lube and spreading it over his fingers, ‘But I’m gonna make it up to you.’ His finger slides in easily, Bucky’s still a little loose from Steve’s fingers earlier, and the catch, the drag of his fingers over the frayed nerves under Bucky’s skin is good, it’s so good. He pushes down into the touch, reaches up with his hands to touch Steve in return, but Steve won’t let him.

‘Steve,' Bucky says, and it must sound wrong because Steve let's his grip go lax, gives Bucky space he doesn't want, 'What?'

'Do we need to stop, Bucky, we can stop, whatever you need.'

'No don't stop, don't stop, I want it.' He does want it, he wants Steve to take charge so he can just let go.

'You promise,' Steve says in that rich, dark voice that melts Bucky down.

'I do, I promise,' Bucky uses his legs to try to draw Steve closer and Steve laughs softly at the attempt. 

He reaches down to grab both of Bucky’s hands in one of his huge hands and brings them up over Bucky’s head, holding them down, pressing them into the laquered wood of the table. 

‘You’re gonna hold still for me, Buck, nice and still while I stretch you open,' he's whispering the words into Bucky's ear and they're going right to his dick, 'Let me fuck you, reach inside you, find all your sweet spots, yeah?’

‘Yeah,’ and Bucky isn’t even sure why that sounds so fucking hot, but he wants Steve inside him, and he wants to be still, be good, wants to be as good as Steve thinks he can be, ‘Yes,' he breathes out, 'Please.’

And he tries, he really does try, but his hips just want to chase the press of Steve’s fingers, they grind down onto him as he adds two and then three, twisting and stretching, carefully brushing over a spot that has Bucky crying out.

'All these little noises you make for me, Bucky, so fucking hot,' Steve licks the words into Bucky's mouth, bites hard enough on his bottom lip to bring his back up in an arch, riding that line of pleasure/pain that nobody before Steve ever hit so perfectly. 

He must try to lift up his hands, he's not even sure what for, except maybe deep in his body he just wants to _touch_ Steve, to _clutch_ at him, but Steve's hold is so complete the movement barely registers and Steve is saying, 'No moving Bucky,' with a squeeze of his fingers.

'Sorry, I'm sorry,' Bucky tries to hold still but it's almost impossible.

'Hey now, you're doing so good, so perfect,' Steve has four fingers in him now and it's a lot, it's pressure, but it's also slick and smooth and all Bucky feels are his nerves on fire and all he wants is the hard length of Steve inside him. He's rocking with Steve and pressing every part of himself that can reach Steve against his hard body. And Steve is looking down at him with heart eyes. 'Fuck, you're gorgeous. Most beautiful thing I've ever seen.'

He can feel Steve's dick, rock hard in his jeans, rubbing against Bucky's thigh and he wants to get his hands on it, his mouth on it, anything but, fuck, he's not supposed to move. _Fuck_ it's the most delicious agony.

Steve takes pity on him, or maybe he's just as crazy for it, his fingers are moving faster, harder, his hips are grinding into Bucky now too, and he has to pull his fingers out of Bucky to pop the button on his fly, rip the zip open and fling them off and away, all while still holding Bucky down and god that makes him squirm, just the demonstrated power in that move. 

'Want it, want you,' Bucky says, hiding his face in the crook of Steve's neck, overwhelmed by how much he's feeling, how much he wants this.

'Want you so fucking much,' Steve says back, kissing Bucky, softer, deeper this time as he gets more lube on his hand, his dick, 'Don't move, Buck,' he says, pulling back, needing two hands to open the condom and roll it on, and Bucky doesn't move, tips his head a little to watch Steve get ready, god he's so big, Bucky forgot just how big he was. He waits, rewarded for his good behaviour with another soft, lingering kiss, and then Steve is pressing on him, holding him down, crowding him in, the tip of his cock resting at Bucky's hole and when he starts to push through, Bucky bares down to help him in, lifts his hips to ease the angle, breathes out slowly to make space for Steve inside of himself. 

It takes a minute of soft kisses and small, easy thrusts for Bucky to feel comfortable but when he does, he sinks into it, let's that feeling, the fullness, the envelopment, wash around him and through him. It's the sort of feeling that has Bucky thinking dangerous thoughts. 

When he looks up at Steve, Steve is watching him, has his eyes fixed to Bucky's face, expression full of affection and wonder, Bucky thinks it might be a mirror to exactly what his own face is saying. 

'So gorgeous,' Steve says, watching him still, 'Perfect.'

And Bucky has been riding close to the edge for so long, the feel of Steve so deep inside him, the still small thrusts of his hips, the way Steve is looking at him, the angle, when he hits right _there_ , brushes against that spot that the pleasure radiates from. He might not be able to hang on. 

'I can't, I can't hold it,' he says and Steve bites down into the sensitive skin of his throat and Bucky cries out as he lets go, lets the orgasm roll over him, arching up into Steve, wrapping his legs even tighter around his waist to ride down on Steve inside him.

Steve seems to lose his calm then, his thrusts coming harder, faster, messier. Bucky nudges at him with his nose, tilting Steve's head to get at his mouth and kisses him, sweet and light, just enough tongue to open his lips and brush against Steve's. 

And Steve falls onto him, their bodies pressed flush against each other on the table, Steve's hands, one on Bucky's hands and the other reaches behind his back to pull him impossiblly closer and fuck deeper into him until he's coming too, spilling into the condom inside Bucky.

Steve lets his body go lax but eases his weight off Bucky, listing to the side and wrapping himself around him. He presses a kiss to Bucky’s temple and runs his fingers through his hair.

‘Holy Shit,’ Bucky says, because, well, it applies, but also, the tenderness in all of Steve’s gestures has him feeling like jelly, and he doesn’t know what to do with that. 

‘Good?’ Steve asks. And what? Is he teasing? Oh god, was it not? ‘Oh Bucky no, don’t make that face. It was so good, I just want to make sure it was good for you too,’ Steve pulls back only far enough that he can look into Bucky’s eyes. ‘I need to make sure that I’m doing right by you Bucky.’

Bucky looks at Steve and he’s a bit lost for words. Because that’s, honestly, everything that he wants to hear from Steve. It doesn’t sound like a throw away line. It sounds like he cares. And if Steve does care, then Bucky might not be the only idiot here. Might not be the only one falling down this rabbit hole.

‘I, I think that was probably the first time I’ve ever enjoyed sex like that… like I… could just let go.’

Steve leans down to kiss him, whisper soft, on his slightly parted lips. ‘For me…’ Steve pauses, brushes his fingers through Bucky’s hair again, ‘For me, I think that’s the first time I’ve ever felt like I might not be able to hold on.’

Bucky isn’t sure what that means exactly, and his expression must say so.

‘Usually it’s all about being in control, controlling my partners experience, but with you, Buck, I can’t… It feels so good, it just felt so fucking good.’

‘For me too, it was perfect Stevie.’

And Steve blushes at that. After everything they’ve just done, and now he's blushing? So fucking adorable. 

‘We should get cleaned up,' he says, looking through the open shutters to the waning sunlight, 'Will it be dark soon?’

‘We’ve got about two hours before the sun’ll be fully set.’

Bucky moves to sit up but Steve pushes him back down, ‘Lay back, let me get this,’ he says sliding down the table to Bucky’s stomach. And, with no apropos, sets his tongue to Bucky’s skin, licking at the mess and swallowing it down. 

‘Oh my god,’ Bucky sucks in his breath, ‘Steve, _fuck_.’

‘Probably don’t have time for that, but we got time for this,’ Steve says, and slides lower to take all of Bucky in his mouth, right to the back of his throat. It's wet, tight, hot, so hot and Steve keeps his cheeks hollow, his nose is Bucky's groin. Already oversensitive, Bucky lasts all of about two minutes, Steve looking up at him with that supersoldier smirk, knowing exactly how he looks, and throwing Bucky clear off the edge of that cliff. 

By the time they make it back to the house, dinner is almost on the table and the rest of the team have no qualms laughing at the state of them.

Sam is in the kitchen, the pockets of his floral apron overflowing with dish towels, tongs and spatula’s, ‘You two better get in the shower before you sit at my table. SEPERATELY,’ he calls, exasperation all over his face, ‘You stink like sex and cider.’

'Sam, be nice,' Steve says, leading Bucky through past the kitchen to the stairs.

'Yeah, you sound pretty high and mighty for a guy who mowed down my favourite hat today,' Clint says, stirring something on the stove top, giving Sam some serious stink eye. 

'Actually, Steve can I talk to you for a minute?' Nat asks, expression neutral.

Steve looks back at her with a similar lack of expression and then turns back to Bucky. 'Why don't you jump in the shower, I'll be up in a bit.'

'Sure,' Bucky says, smiling, wanting Steve to know he understands, 'I've got that list to make too.'

'Right, good,' and Steve reaches out a hand, pulls Bucky in and kisses him softly, 'I won't be long.'

It stupid how giddy that gesture makes him. In front of everyone. 'Sure, yeah. Okay.'

'Dinner's fifteen minutes away!' Sam calls again, eyebrow raised at Bucky, which, _rude_. But he doesn't argue, he can smell something roasting and he doesn't want to miss out on food again. He looks back at Steve, who's watching him in turn.

'I'll just,' he points above him, 'See you soon.'

Steve nods and finally turns away, Nat waiting patiently, ducking her head close to Steve's to speak to him quietly. Bucky takes the stairs two at a time and bustles into the bedroom to get the water running in the shower.

He's half way through conditioning his hair (Clint has some kind of homemade apple cider shampoo and it's fucking _unreal_ ) when Steve makes it upstairs.

'Bucky?' 

'Yeah, one minute!' Bucky calls back.

'Hey,' Steve says, coming through the ensuite door, 'Ah, Buck?'

'Steve?' Something must have changed, Steve's demeanor is all off. 

'We might have a problem…'

Bucky shuts the water off, most of the conditioner at least rinsed through. 'What's happened?'

And something must be up, because Steve passes him a towel with barely a second glance. Well, not really, but he does abort his attempt to let his hand linger with a shake of his head.

'It's Tony.'

'What's Tony.'

'He found your sister.'

Becka.

Becka who he gave up so much for, who's supposed to be safe and free.

The one person on the entire planet who really knows him.

His baby sister. The only family he has left.

The room tilts, his vision narrows. He hears Steve call his name but it's no good. 

His world goes black long before his head hits the tub.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Okay two things:
> 
> Steve has supersoldier reflexes, and ofcourse he caught Bucky before he hit his head.
> 
> Part 5 is going to be a POV switch. and should be up in a week or so.
> 
> Talk to me in the comments. Hearing from you makes this process so much more rewarding, honestly, I sit and wait for the comments with equal parts joy and dread...
> 
> come visit me here:
> 
> [darter-blue](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/darter-blue) on tumblr
> 
> [@beclouise13](https://twitter.com/beclouise13) on twitter


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